There’s nothing quite like the sinking feeling of seeing your neighbor’s car blocking your driveway—again. For six months, Greg treated my property like an extension of his own, no matter how many times I asked him to stop.
At first I tried being understanding. “Construction materials in your way? Sure, park here this once.” But “just five minutes” became hours. “Emergency” parking turned into a daily habit. His apologies sounded emptier each time.
The breaking point came when I nearly missed an important work meeting because Greg “just needed to run inside for something.” As I watched him casually sip coffee through his kitchen window while I pounded on his door, I knew I needed a new approach.
My revenge was beautifully simple. When I left town for a long weekend, I made sure my car was the one blocking his driveway. The poetic justice of watching him panic over texts while I enjoyed poolside drinks in Vegas was priceless.
Since that weekend? Not a single unauthorized car in my driveway. Some people only learn when the inconvenience becomes theirs.
